


The Ecstasies of Justice

by cruisedirector, Dementordelta



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Javert Survives, Books, Characters Writing Fanfiction, Dirty Talk, Erotica, Established Relationship, Fantasizing, Fluff and Crack, Gratuitous Smut, Happy Ending, Humor, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Parody, Porn, Prison, Punishment, Quotations, Requited Love, Romance, Spanking, Spit As Lube, Strength Kink, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:46:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisedirector/pseuds/cruisedirector, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dementordelta/pseuds/Dementordelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Valjean discovers that Javert has literary talents he would never have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ecstasies of Justice

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [正义迷情 （The Ecstasies of Justice）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/803207) by [yayachris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yayachris/pseuds/yayachris)



> Pure smutty silliness. If you are offended by jokes about prison, police officers, etc., this may not be for you. Many thanks to esteven for beta!

It mystified Valjean where Javert's money could have come from.

Javert insisted on contributing to the house, the food, the upkeep of the horses, though Valjean had not thought a policeman -- even a highly-respected Inspector who'd been assigned to secret undercover investigations -- was paid so substantially for his work. Yet it was unthinkable that Javert could have been involved in anything illegal. And Valjean couldn't guess why Javert would hide the origins of any money he might have inherited from some relative Valjean had never heard of who had been more fortunate than Javert's own parents.

Then, one day, when the housekeeper was off visiting her sister and Valjean was putting away books that Javert had removed from the library, he came across what he initially thought was one of the treatises Javert had read on faith and lawfulness. The cover, after all, was innocuous, and the title was _Unless You Learn the Meaning of the Law_. He took it into the kitchen to read while he heated water for tea.

Half an hour later, when a smiling Javert returned from the market with a basket full of vegetables, Valjean knew that the book had nothing to do with faith and very little with justice. "What is _this_?" he demanded.

Javert glanced at what Valjean was holding and had the grace to blush. "It's a novel," he replied, setting down the carrots.

"A novel?" Valjean did not allow himself to whimper when Javert performed a vaguely lewd act with a carrot before biting into it, or perhaps it only appeared so to Valjean. "This is depravity, Javert. I must admit that I am shocked."

For a man who so sternly had followed the law that he had considered suicide a reasonable response to failing to capture a convict -- reasonable, at least, until Valjean had chased after him, dragged him back to the house, and silenced Javert's self-loathing by sucking his much-less-stern prick -- Javert had become capable of a great deal of ethical dissembling. "There is nothing depraved about it. It's only a story, therefore it does not reflect any moral lapse on the part of any persons living or dead."

"It is an indecent story full of lechery and exaggeration. For instance, this..." Valjean flipped to a page that he had lingered over so long, his fingers had left a stain in the corner. "This claim that the principal character, the prisoner Maljuin, has a fourteen-inch prick."

"That is only a slight embellishment," replied Javert, his eyes wide and innocent.

"And when he is unable to touch it with his chained hands, he entices the chaste guard Laverre by bending over and licking it!"

"If you had read further, you would know that that was merely a fantasy in the guard's mind. Strange thoughts may begin to afflict a man when he is too long denied release." Valjean was quite certain that Javert wiggled his hips.

Giving Javert a thoughtful look, he flipped a few more pages. "That is not all he imagines," he said, scanning the page for a passage he'd glimpsed earlier and meant to come back to. "Ah, this part," he went on, reading silently to himself for a moment until he felt Javert looking over his shoulder. "I don't think you should read this part," he decided, sliding his hand over the page.

"Nonsense," Javert said, reaching to tug his hand away. "What are you hiding?"

Shaking his head, Valjean slid his fingers aside just enough so that he himself could read the page. "It says the convict, that poor man, was brought to the guard for questioning, and --" His voice faded again as he finished the end of the page and flicked his gaze up the next. "Oh that's..." he added, face still buried in the book.

"You will make me distract you if you don't tell me," began Javert, and Valjean finally lifted his hand completely. "Oh, that part." He cleared his throat. "Well, they are not breaking any rules of the prison," he pointed out.

"Not breaking any -- Javert, they are _wanking_ for each other," Valjean sputtered. "Their cocks are almost touching throughout this entire passage." He ran his finger along the page, pointing out the relevant words.

"Almost," Javert said with a shrug. "As long as the guard does not actually touch the prisoner, no rules are broken." He was definitely leaning closer, eyes lingering over the words in question. Instead of looking embarrassed about what he was reading, Javert looked oddly pleased. "Clever, no?"

"You have read this entire book?" Valjean asked, closing it with a snap. Javert did not answer at once, shifting uncomfortably. "I can see that you have. I had no idea you found such literature stimulating."

Again Javert shrugged. "Many men do," he said without apology.

"Did you read books like this in Toulon?"

"Certainly not. I was unaware of such books in Toulon. But as a policeman, I was occasionally summoned to destroy seditious literature such as the books of the Marquis de Sade. I had to familiarize myself with the contents so that I would recognize which books were dangerous. That study made me aware of the gaps in my education."

Valjean scowled at him. "Yet the first time you shared my bed, you told me that you had been utterly chaste and inexperienced, that you had never even imagined yourself with another man!"

"I told you no lies. I have never imagined myself with any other man." Javert glanced up and down Valjean's body, making him blush. "And I was utterly chaste and inexperienced, except in my thoughts."

Valjean let the book fall open again. "The guard does not always refrain from touching the prisoner. This chapter here..."

"They are not in the _bagne_ in that chapter, for the prisoner Maljuin has tried to escape," huffed Javert. "The attentive guard, Laverre, tracks him down..."

"...and the prisoner sucks the guard's prick to persuade him to be silent! But the upright Laverre will not be swayed from apprehending him, not even when Maljuin fulfills Laverre's longtime wish to feel the prisoner's tongue deep within his _derrière_!" Javert's cheeks were pink and his eyes were dilated. It was a look Valjean knew well, but he refused to allow himself to get up and bend Javert over the table then and there. "This book mocks prisoners and guards alike. It suggests that the guards lust for the captives and that the prisoners find their torment arousing!"

Javert lowered his eyes. "It's only a story," he said again defensively. "Like _Justine_ \-- no matter what the Marquis may have written, no one really believes that monks have nightly orgies. Surely they could not manage it more than once a week at most."

Valjean was about to offer a retort when he realized that Javert was joking. "Have you read many books like this?" he demanded.

"Only as many as I felt were required to familiarize myself with the type of material." That Javert could look virtuous while discussing such a topic mystified Valjean. "Once I understood what publishers sought, and why readers would appreciate such material, I read no more of it. I don't know why you're so scandalized. We ourselves have done many of the things described in that book."

"That is a private matter. When you tie my wrists to the headboard and tell me that you're going to fuck yourself on my cock until you --" Suddenly Valjean understood. His mouth fell open. "You _wrote_ this!" he accused.

Rather than blushing in shame, Javert looked proud of himself. "It has already been reprinted twice."

"And when they come to arrest you for penning seditious literature?" demanded Valjean.

"There is nothing seditious about it. I treated the prisoners better in my novel than you have often accused me of treating them when I was a guard. No one is disrespectful to any figure of authority and none of the guards abuses his position." He drew himself up, huffing, "It's a romance."

It was difficult to speak from a position of moral authority with an erection, so Valjean tried to hide his with the book. "Yes, I glanced at the ending. The prisoner is released on parole and disappears, and the guard pines for him. Not a very satisfying conclusion."

Javert cleared his throat. "That book is only the first of three."

"You have written _more_ of these? Is that what you sit and scribble when I presume you to be writing your memoirs?"

"They have been very lucrative." Again Javert looked smug. "I was not certain that you would approve, but now that you have discovered my _oeuvre_ , perhaps you will work on it with me. I feel certain that you would enjoy the research."

Though Valjean tried to come up with another objection, he found that he had none. If Javert claimed that he was breaking no laws, it was almost certainly the case, and it was true that the book did not promote abuse or violation. Indeed, the prisoner had been a most enthusiastic participant in the guard's debauchery. Moreover, Javert had gone from being rather shy and passive in bed to an increasingly aggressive, creative partner in lovemaking. If that was his idea of _research_ , then Valjean was fortunate in more ways than one that Javert had found such a career.

"In the next book, for instance," Javert cleared his throat, "a police officer has insulted a magistrate, and needs to be punished."

Narrowing his eyes, Valjean asked, "What is the name of that book?"

"It is..." The tops of the carrots had suddenly become very interesting to Javert. Finally he blurted out, "It is, _Press Charges Against Me, Sir_."

Valjean had had enough of pretending that his cock was not about to rip through his trousers. "I believe it would be most appropriate for the magistrate to put the police officer over his knee and spank him," he growled.

For a moment he thought that Javert's sudden movement meant that he had greatly overstepped. Then he realized that Javert was not trying to flee but to shove his trousers down. " _Yes_ , Monsieur le maire," he gasped eagerly.

Valjean had never actually spanked anyone—he had certainly never lifted a hand against Cosette -- but that wasn't about to stop him, not when his own prick gave a surge of approval when Javert draped himself over his lap. It was a good thing Valjean's legs were still strong, for Javert was not a small man, in any sense. Even with his trousers around his ankles, he radiated contrition and arousal. Tentatively Valjean rubbed his hand over the exposed buttocks.

Even this mild touch elicited a groan from Javert. "You should have told me about this hobby of yours," he scolded, squeezing one buttock. Really, for a man Javert's age, his form was still firm.

"I -- I know, I should have but --"

Valjean had lifted one hand, not sure exactly whether he could go through with it, but he felt Javert grab onto his leg and his hand fell as if of its own volition. Admittedly it was little more than a gentle slap, but the sound that burst from Javert's mouth made Valjean intensely aware that he had not had a chance to remove his own trousers before having his lap filled with Javert.

He did it again, more robustly this time, swatting each cheek in turn.

"Monsieur le maire," groaned Javert, rubbing rather shamelessly against Valjean's thighs. Belatedly Valjean remembered that they were enacting a scene from Javert's printed fantasies. He tried to remember how Javert had described the scenario.

"You...insulted me, I believe?" he said, rubbing his hand over a pink spot left by his own hand.

"I said that you were soft on the criminal element," agreed Javert, his voice husky. "That is, if you were not yourself a convict in disguise..."

Valjean pressed up against him, letting him feel the effect their discussion had had on his cock. "You will observe that I am not soft at all," he pointed out, raising his hand for another blow. He didn't think any of the smacks were hard enough to hurt beyond a sting, but he was mindful of any distress on Javert's part.

From the sounds Javert was making, his feelings were the very opposite of distress. He groaned and thrust himself against Valjean's trousers. "Oh, Monsieur le maire! You should use me as I deserve -- you should allow me to service you!"

It should have been absurd, even shameful, that Valjean found himself so aroused to hear Javert offer himself in such a way, yet for a moment he feared that his cock would erupt in his clothing. "Up," he barked, and Javert obeyed at once. His own hands were shaking, so he demanded, "Help me remove my trousers."

"Yes, Monsieur." Javert might have been pretending to be obedient, but Valjean could see from the wicked gleam in his eye that Javert knew exactly how much Valjean liked this. Javert's nimble fingers had the trousers around Valjean's ankles very quickly. "Shall I fetch the oil and apply it to your fine cock, Monsieur?" he asked with a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You shall not. You shall bend over the table and spread your legs." Color rushed into Javert's face again as he groaned and hastened to obey. "You wrote that the guard Laverre wished to be fucked by the prisoner's tongue?" The shudder that wracked Javert was accompanied by a whimper of longing. Valjean grabbed at the pot that held the water for his tea, which was still warm. He fumbled for a handkerchief and dunked it in the water, watching Javert writhe against the table. "If you finish before I allow it..." he began, then could not think what to say, for at the moment he could not think of any punishment that Javert might not welcome as a reward.

Instead he pushed the cloth between Javert's buttocks and wiped through the furrow, listening to Javert's choked cries of pleasure, before sitting back in his chair and lowering his face to the task at hand. He had never imagined that he would enjoy putting his tongue in Javert's _trou du cul_ , but the blissful sounds that Javert made and the way his skin quivered against Valjean's lips were intensely arousing. It seemed that the harder he thrust his tongue inside, the more Javert groaned.

"Now I'm going to fuck you with my fourteen-inch _bâton_ ," he muttered, wiping the spit that had run down his chin away with his fingers and rubbing it on the head of his cock.

He would have fetched the oil, but Javert moaned, "Yes! Please! Just like this! As if we were in prison!" and thrust his backside at Valjean, whose cock felt as if it had been teased beyond endurance. He spit into his hand again and rubbed it on himself, then held himself steady and found that he scarcely needed to move his hips at all, for Javert shoved backward, impaling himself on the hard shaft. "Jean!" cried Javert.

"Do you not mean _Monsieur le maire_?" demanded Valjean, breathless, unable to keep from thrusting into the tight heat that gripped his cock.

"I always called you Jean in my thoughts. Even when you were the mayor of Montreuil and I had no proof." The words made Valjean groan in surprise. "I would touch myself like this..." He felt Javert grab one of his hands from where it was gripping Javert's hip and bring it to Javert's prick, which thrust urgently into their half-linked fingers. "And I would think of your big hands and strong shoulders, and how I had wanted to ride Valjean's cock in Toulon, and how I wished Monsieur Madeleine would find me just then and punish me for polluting myself by taking out his own cock and shooting his seed all over my face!"

"Javert, _nom de dieu_ , Javert --" Oaths spilled from Valjean's lips as his hips snapped helplessly, pushing Javert's cock through their joined hands in the process.

"Every day I thought of you! You and no other! I have always wanted you like this, _mon Jean_!" He thought that he would surely explode, then Javert went rigid beneath him, shouting, " _mon possesseur Jean!_ " and emptying his balls over their fingers and the table. Javert had indeed finished without permission, but before Valjean could tell him how wicked he was, how he would be punished, how Valjean would hold his chest down on the bed by squatting over him and fuck his mouth until he...

Oh praise God and all his angels, his prick was spurting deep inside Javert, he was shouting Javert's name, his hips were jerking so hard it made the table thump heavily against the floor. Javert grunted, his cock still twitching in the aftermath of his climax. When at last Valjean stilled himself, he heard Javert emit a half-strangled chuckle.

"I'm crushing you --"

"Stay where you are, Jean. I will gladly bear your weight a while longer."

"But surely I must have hurt you."

"Oh, I will feel the effects of your _grand bâton_ for hours. Which is just as I wanted it." Again Javert laughed. "You are very good to indulge me so."

"Indulge!" Valjean sputtered, laughing in surprise. "I just took you over a table after spanking your _derrière_!"

"You did not spank me very hard," Javert said, obviously trying not to sound accusing. He stretched his fingers out over the table like a cat kneading in place.

Valjean found that he had strength enough to lift his head from the damp hairs on the back of Javert's neck. "I'm still learning the way of this," he defended, "And I had no suspicions that you would ever desire it." He cleared his throat. "Not even in Toulon."

The skin on Javert's neck colored exactly the same shade that his bottom had when Valjean had laid his palm upon it. "I did not mean to confess that."

They let that settle around them, feeling the gossamer weight of it on their skin like the drying sweat they had roused from each other. "You've been thinking about this for a long time," Valjean said, his voice gentle. "About me." His cock was softening, threatening to slip out, but they were so close that it stayed in place. "And when I pulled you away from the river --"

"Sometimes the longing was too much. It was not the first time I'd walked the river's edge."

Valjean slid his hand over the curve of Javert's belly. "I wish I had known, not in Toulon but in Montreuil." His skin still felt damp and Valjean added to it with his kisses, tasting Javert's neck, his shoulder.

"I started to write in Montreuil," Javert said. "Though I did not have the courage to seek out a publisher until much later, after I saw you in Paris. I thought -- I suppose I thought that perhaps you would encounter the book, and it might make you think of me. I never imagined that there was such demand for stories of lust-addled guards and handsome convicts." He hesitated. "You aren't offended that I suggested the prisoner might have returned the guard's interest?"

"As you said, it's only a fantasy. And if I claimed to be offended, you would know from my cock that I lied." Valjean bit down a bit on Javert's shoulder, making him moan. "And you have been reprinted twice?" Javert nodded. "I want to know every wicked thing you've never written. Everything you've imagined doing but thought it might shock your readers to discover. Everything you have not dared to wish even to yourself."

"That might take a very long time. I have quite a lot of unchaste thoughts."

"And to think I had believed that I might be corrupting you when I tried to distract you from your bleakest introspections with sex," said Valjean lightly. "Though it was never only sex. Even at the very beginning, when I assumed you felt nothing for me but disdain."

"There has never been a moment when my feelings for you were simple. When you left Toulon, I thought that at least I would always be able to find you because you would always be on parole. Then you disappeared. Then I found you again, and I knew I must do something about my urges or they would consume me. Confession offered no relief, but writing did."

"I suppose it's just as well I didn't know." Valjean chuckled. "I would have been afraid that my lovemaking could not possibly live up to your imagination."

"You need never worry. You've exceeded every fantasy I've ever had." Beneath him, Javert lurched, twisting to look at him. Valjean felt his cock slide free, though it felt less like freedom than loss of connection. He straightened, reaching to pull Javert up from the table and turning him around so he could wrap his arms around him. They stood like that in silence for several minutes, pressed belly to sticky belly, breathing against one another's shoulders. "I would not trade this to have lived every word that I have written," Javert added finally.

"Perhaps there is no need to trade." When he felt Javert glance up at him, Valjean allowed himself to grin. "You said that you are working on another novel? What will this one be called?"

A wicked gleam came into Javert's eyes. "Since it follows the other two, I had thought to call it _The Man of Mercy Comes Again_." At this, Valjean began to laugh. "It takes place just after the June Rebellion, when an ex-convict has escaped through the sewers and tries to persuade a respectable police inspector to allow him to go free."

Despite his age and its recent activity, Valjean's cock gave a small twitch. "I suppose he uses his tongue to persuade the inspector?"

"His tongue, yes. But he does very little speaking. Otherwise the book might be deemed seditious, which would be unlawful." Javert glanced speculatively up and down Valjean's body. "I am having some difficulty describing the position in which the prisoner demonstrates his powers of persuasion, in an alley after the convict has rescued the policeman from being shot as a spy. Would you be willing to help me work out the particulars? I would, of course, compensate you..."

"I would be willing. No compensation would be necessary." Valjean could not resist another smile. "You only must assure me that the story will have a happy ending."

Warm lips brushed over Valjean's as Javert caught the smile, lifting the corners of his mouth. "It already does," Javert promised.


End file.
